Redemption
by mercy825
Summary: It was a revolution everyone supposed. An unlikely pair leading the shinobi world into a new dawn, the last Uchiha, the Byakugan Princess. With kinship, they could change the wrongs of the past, with love they could form a new future.


**I-** water

 **Disclaimer:** I do not the Naruto franchise or any characters.

Kishimoto is the rightful owner. But if I did I probably would actually resolve the many issues the series has.

Not necessarily canon, maybe if you squint set post-war

Written by **me & 0florynce0**

* * *

 **Some Nights**

 _"So this is it?_

 _I sold my soul for this?_

 _Washed my hands of that for this "_

\- Some Nights by Fun

* * *

 **I**

The blood had drizzled down the contours of his cheeks like rain down a window pane and further staining his bloodied clothes. He stumbled backwards until his back hit the river, the sound of splashing water being the only warning. The coldness of the water engulfed him; the sudden chill stung. It took what it did not need, but the water is what gave him clarity. It is what gave him peace as it surged around the pale of his skin leaving it rough with goose bumps. The rain froze over the blood in his veins but it numbed the nagging throbbing and cleansed his soul.

He looked up at the sky which now seemed so close he could touch it, as if it were merely a thin surface that separated the stars from the Earth. Almost like a mere sheet of paper, the ends now singed away as if the sky were ravenous, and had ate away at the paper with an insatiable hunger. And left behind it, was cold darkness. It was neither heaven nor even hell that he was looking at, but only complete and consuming emptiness. A gaping hole of oblique nothing.

He supposed this ending is befitting for a man such as himself. No. _a boy, like him._ He is neither a saint nor sinner. He was, after all a frightened boy, high off the pain and starved of love. He lashed out at the world like a wild beast for all his misfortunes. A frightened child who had been violent and depraved. He had been so unprepared and reckless. And most importantly he had been lost and afraid; young and so alone. It didn't matter, anyway. They could do whatever they wanted with his body after this. He imagined that the shinobi would refuse to tend his traitorous corpse and leave his remains in the fields for the raven to peck clean-or perhaps they'd steal his eyes before dumping his remains in who knows where, _an undignified place most likely,_ he mused.

While he drowned within his own thoughts, a woman walked along the brush not far from the river itself. She was exhausted and seeked to take a break from her long travels and unending missions. She heard the running water and began a slow tread through the ends of the forest and into the clearing, despite the relative peace it was better to be careful and avoid potential enemies.

Her sensitive eyes struggled to adjust in the minimal lighting but continued onward, what type of competent shinobi couldn't? Suddenly, upon further inspection with the aid of the light from the shining night sky, the horrific image before her. It was a bloodied and beaten body floating pliant like seaweed in the slow current of the Naka River.

It only took a few moments before her brain took over almost automatically. Her feet took off one after the other on their own accord, slapping against the squelching soft mud of the riverbank. The water swells at her feet and quickly reached her torso. The water enveloped her body in a cold embrace until she realizes she doesn't know how long he has been in the chilling water. His weight was overbearing upon her own small frame, but she pulled through and hauled him out.

He felt himself weightless and free from the water's hold, somehow he thought it was death finally talking it's toll. He presumed himself in his final moments, but he could not even hope to pray. He didn't even believe in the existence of angels or any diety out there. A luxury he could not afford.

Ironically enough, _he hoped- yes even heathens like him_ that the river would carry him back yesterday, before all this. At least then he would be at peace with the others before him Those that had been slaughtered so carelessly like cattle.

 _However, in that reflective moment of profound disbelief, a pale hand both soft and warm gripped his face. A sheet of dark bluish hue brushes up his body, and a womanly figure held him. His eyes were still weak and he knew his vision was deteriorating, but he strained them only enough to memorize her face._

 _In that very instant he felt foolish. Not only moments ago did he deny the existence of angels but right and true, one is holding him now. He saw worry and fatigue etched in her worn face but that said worry did nothing to diminish her beauty. There was moonlight surrounding the crown of her head like a halo, a light so bright he decided it would be better to look away._

 _Shifting his gaze to the side and he shut his eyes as a heavy feeling that drowned his lung. That feeling swelled within immersely. He wanted to tell her to go, to leave him in misery and let death take him away._

 _But he couldn't._

 _He was coughing and sputtering scarlet liquid. He tried to choke out a comment but the words got caught in his windpipe and come out as a gargled mess, flagging like the fleeting beats of his pulse. The very blood in his veins struggling to flow without pooling in puddles where they shouldn't; in his mouth, the riverbank, on the hands of the lilac eyed stranger.  
His bloody hair clung to his forehead as he felt the stranger's hands brush his matted hair away. He floated in the bleak feeling only aware of the darkness and soft fingertips that slide gently along the lines of his bruised ribs and mangled lip. Blood flowed, thick and sluggish, from a slash across his gut, spilling out a nest glistening grey snakes._

 _His ashen face, contrasted greatly against the blood. The natural lustre of his pale skin had sunken drastically in tone._

 _She looked at him, the blood in her very veins had ran cold in an instant. Her body flinched in response. She had recognized him. Sasuke Uchiha. The one person Naruto and Sakura begged to have in their lives once more, someone known as both an ally and formidable enemy, renowned as a powerful shinobi, who now suffered in her arms._

 _Thoughts of leaving him ran through her head but they didn't last more than a few seconds, she had never been one to support the suffering of anyone, much less someone dear to her friends. The need to help him overwhelmed any negative feelings that summed her thoughts and left a drumming noise inside her head. With quick resolve, she summoned all the strength she had accumulated since the beginning of her shinobi training and picked up the unconscious man._

 _Her muscles were numb from the harsh coldness of the water that soaked her clothes, so she pushed her chakra to run along her body and give her more mobility, allowing her to continue onwards into the thick lining of the forest._

 **Chapter i. The Naka River**

Hinata's eyes drifted into an unwavering gaze upon the horizon. She felt small as she glanced over her shoulder and saw her shadow slowly shrinking back towards her feet. She looked back to the line, only a few bright streaks remained to signal heaven's passing. The sun had set.

The woods accelerated the twilight, shrinking what would normally take an hour into just a few minutes. When Hinata entered on the rutted path, carefully avoiding the knotted intertwined roots of the woods, so little light had faded so she didn't even notice the difference. It wasn't a long trek though it was muddier for sure but it would certainly get her home at a faster rate.

Byakugan eyes adjust slowly to the encroaching gloom, after ten minutes that she realized the sun wasn't penetrating the leaves like it usually did and everything was a hue darker than it should be. She picked up her pace but in only what she considered a heartbeat the world grew undeniably dark, she could no longer avoid the ruts as her ankle twisted painfully with every misstep of hers.

The trees had become silhouettes, the air was colder and the gaiety of the woodland had been replaced with a sense of paranoia. Her heart pounded in a way that had nothing to do with the exertion of walking. Breaths haggard and harsh, her hands trembled at her side.


End file.
